Out in the Cold
by BlueEyes White Dragon Sorcerer
Summary: Drabbly little oneshot. Can't say too much since it's kind of obvious by the title and: LVHP ... but he looks like Tom, so.... XP


**Out in the Cold**

**by BlueEyes White Dragon**

_Dis-clay-moor: Not owningness of dis. Dis I am owning not. I dis-climb it. XP May I climb you? #shakes head# I'm insane, yes? Rawr to you, then._

_**AN:** Drabble-ish. Something I've had in my notebook for awhile, so I decided to type it up and post it to help with those suffering from withdrawal. XP_

**Story start!** _Voldemort/Tom's POV_

It's so cold out. No one in their right mind would come out tonight. That's why I'm out and about. I'm glad that I have my youth back. My serpentine visage might have been wonderful for intimidation, but it was horrid for keeping warm and I was always so listless during the winter.

It's still snowing a bit here in Hogsmeade and all the villagers are wrapped up snug in their homes. All the students and teachers up at Hogwarts must be snug in their beds. They live in a castle after all, and a drafty castle at that.

I haven't been paying attention where I'm going and I've apparently wandered over to the Shrieking Shack. Mean ghost, my ass. Those rumours cropped up when there was a werewolf going to Hogwarts and the screams always happened on a full moon. How stupid can people be?

Eh!

What's this? There is someone else besides me out here on this freezing cold night that just happens to be where I wander? If I were one to believe in Fate (which sadly I must if I'm to believe in prophesies), then I'd say we were meant to meet this night.

Obviously this person is male by the build and he has short, messy, black hair. That's a Hogwarts cloak, so he must be a student.

How odd. For what could I be doing meeting a Hogwarts student out here? And in the dead of night, no less! Confusing bugger.

Foolish child! He doesn't even have any gloves on. Does he want to freeze to death?

He has a Gryffindor scarf, messy black hair... Surely not... It couldn't be... Harry Potter?

"Potter?" He turns, recognizing me immediately.

"Tom Riddle? No, Voldemort," he murmurs almost to himself, "why are you - Nevermind..." He trail off, returning his mournful gaze to the shack. I walk up behind him, then move to his side, watching him carefully. He just stands there, staring off into the distance like he doesn't see me at all, much less as a threat. That or he just doesn't care, period.

For a moment I wonder why he's so sad, so apathetic towards me, his arch-nemesis. We've spent nearly his entire life trying to kill each other.

I remember now. His godfather is dead - gone really, never to return. I chuckle but he doesn't even twitch, so I make as if I'm going to hit him... he ignores me. I need to get a reaction from him. How dare he ignore me; I'm the greatest sorcerer in the world!

I don't know what makes me do it, but I grab him and kiss him. For a moment I berate myself for acting so Gryffindorish, but then he starts kissing back.

His lips are soft, but cold though his mouth is burning. It's wonderful, enfolding him in my arms, devouring his mouth as he weakly grips my arms.

I forget about the cold, forget that this boy - man has been my prophesied doom, forget about the war we're waging; I even forget who I am, who I profess to be. I am once again the Tom Riddle I appear as, enjoying - no - reveling in my first kiss, the first I've enjoyed, care to remember.

We're finally forced apart by our need to breathe and I ache to bury myself in the sensation of him again. His face is flushed; he's breathing hard and looking up at me with no small amount of shock and lust with a small glint of - is that? - hope.

I smirk and give in. He's ready for it this time and tilts his head to meet me. Clutching my shoulders around my back now, he pulls me closer, shifting against me, causing certain parts of our anatomy to brush, sending heat and pleasure coursing through our bodies and wrenching moans from deep within our chests.

"You're playing a dangerous game - " I growl slightly at being cut off, but allow it.

" - a game in which I am the central piece. Whichever side has me wins. Give me a good enough deal and I'll be yours." Smirking, I claim his lips again, grinding our whole bodies together.

"How about we go someplace more comfortable. Your place or mine?" I purr once we've parted for air. Giving the Shrieking Shack one last look, he replies.

"Yours." I feel like whooping out loud. Everything is finally going to start falling into place and all I had to do was sit back and let the Light screw themselves over.

I hear a sniffle and look down to find a tear sliding down his cheek as he resolutely refuses to look at the Shrieking Shack. Leaning down, I kiss the tear and then all the way back up to the corner of his eye, making him give a little hiccup.

"Then, let us not waste anymore time out in the cold," I murmur as vivid green eyes meet my own crimson. He nods and I Apparate us away from the dreary place.

_**AN**: I my personal opinion: LAME! But it wouldn't leave me alone, so I wrote it then decided that it wouldn't do any good to have written a TR/HP drabble-thingy if I wasn't going to post it and here it is._


End file.
